


The Most Unusual of Coffee Dates

by BennyBatch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddly Loki, Day Off, FrostIron Bingo 2019, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Language, Sleepy Cuddles, Snarky Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, apology coffee, so Loki thinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 14:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BennyBatch/pseuds/BennyBatch
Summary: Tony Stark, after weeks upon weeks of working his ass off for the Avengers, for Stark Industries, he finally has a day off; and what better way to spend it than going out for coffee? The coffee is all well and good, phenomenal even, but the walk back to the Tower afterwards? Decidedly problematic. Just who is that figure shrouded under a woollen cloak?
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 23
Kudos: 237





	The Most Unusual of Coffee Dates

Oh boy. Boy, oh boy. Fucking finally – a day off.

Tony collapses onto his couch with an exasperated groan and scrubs a hand over his face, letting it lie there.

This week had been especially trying, and it’s only Tuesday. It doesn’t help that the weekend brought no reprieve. Rather than sipping whiskey and twiddling his thumbs as he was wont to do, Thursday through Monday graciously offered him a healthy variety of stresses, the first of which being lengthy meetings with an up-and-coming business sprouting out of Hong Kong. Pepper had insisted that he be there. “If they see that Tony Stark, the head of Stark Industries, is taking a personal interest in brokering the deal,” she cajoled, “then they’ll be more willing to enter in negotiations.”

So, Tony had followed her lead and sat through hours upon hours of back and forth discussions dedicated to hammering out the details of the company entering a joint green deal venture with Stark Industries. In the end, Pepper was right, as she always is. He wouldn’t have made her CEO if that wasn’t the case. The deal was signed in record time with all parties leaving satisfied with arrangements.

Tony was relieved to cross SI business off the checklist, but then came the sporadic, weekend-ruining calls for the Avengers to assemble as New York City’s resident God of Mischief saw fit to wreak havoc in Central Park. When the group of them arrived, Tony, as usual, jumped headfirst into the fray. Loki must have liked that if the smirk playing on his lips was any indication. However, regardless of whether or not Loki appreciated his presence there, it didn’t stop the mage from handing Tony’s proffered ass right back to him. Loki stood over him, cooing and laughing when Tony kicked out in time to Steve’s incessant bitching over the comms about his idiotic, selfish tactics.

The fight didn’t last much longer after he was knocked down. Steve and the team swiftly advanced on them, so with a wink at Tony and a shimmer of green, Loki disappeared, leaving Tony sprawled on the ground to be collected by his teammates. His suggestion to grab gyros went ignored in favor of being gripped under the arms, hefted up, and transported back to the Tower for mission debriefing.

Gah, the debriefs!

Jesus, Steve really couldn’t leave work on the field, could he? No, of course not. Mr. Self-Righteous-Patriotic-Asshole just had to bring it all back to Fury so he and the whole team could gang up to tear Tony down. Bruce never joined in, though, too hurt on Tony’s behalf to even stick around to listen to it. Not that Tony blamed him. Bruce always came by his floor after particularly nasty meetings to prepare tea for the both of them, and he seemed to come around more often than not these days.

Tony groans again, pressing his hand against his nose until it hurts.

Despite Bruce’s efforts, he can still hear Steve’s grating self-righteous voice ringing in his ears, again fogging his mind with both indifference and defiance. But there is no need to think on it now. Today is for him and nobody else.

He sighs and drops his arm away from his face to let his fingertips brush against the rug. “J?”

“Yes, sir?”

“What should I do with myself?”

“Perhaps this book, sir,” Jarvis says, opening up a nearby hologram to display a copy of _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. “I believe pictures might be better suited to hold your attention.”

“Oh, ha ha, J, very funny. C’mon, a real suggestion, please. Something to help me destress.”

“There is a plethora of projects to be completed in your workshop, sir, including six Iron Man prototypes that have passed the standard preliminary tests. They are currently set aside for your signature brand of testing.”

As Jarvis speaks, Tony hums in thought and is drumming on his arc reactor when a sudden pain blooms behind his eyes. _Oh, right, caffeine_.

“Or might I suggest—”

“Scratch that, J. Find me some coffee. Good reviews, walking distance, somewhere I haven’t been.”

It hardly takes a second before Jarvis is speaking again. “‘The Beanful Dead’ fits your criteria, sir. Open only two and a half weeks, the independently owned café has received rave reviews for its signature blends, pastries, and zombie-themed décor and lattes. It is a ten-minute walk from the tower, due south.”

Tony stretches his arms above his head before sitting up with a sigh. Once he has a pastry or two and some warm coffee mingling in his belly, he knows his day off will take a turn for the better.

He grabs his coat and tosses it over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up, J.”

“I never sleep, sir.”

He huffs, grinning as he grabs his sunglasses, too. “Course you don’t.” He shoots a farewell kiss to one of Jarvis’s cameras before stepping into the elevator, humming as the doors close.

The rush of warm air that greets him as Tony pushes open The Beanful Dead’s glass door has him inhaling the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and sighing in soon-to-be-caffeinated bliss.

Tony steps inside and pushes up his sunglasses as they fog. He scans the room and takes in the computers, phones, and textbooks of the café’s college-age patrons, relaxing further when the couple sitting near the door quickly rebury their heads in their studies. The door slips from his fingers then, and as it does a life-sized zombie reveals itself, startling him. It takes a moment before he chuckles at himself, shifting his gaze from the zombie’s face to the platter it extends to visitors. He nabs a toothpicked square of the Victoria sponge and pops it into his mouth while admiring the, admittedly cute, café merch the zombie sports.

He hums, tipping his head.

It’s good, really good.

He dusts off his fingers on his pants and moves deeper into the café’s warmth, inspecting the hanging menu board next and grinning at the inventive latte names: Planet Terror (vanilla latte with red and blue froth), Undead Elvis (latte imbued with smooth peanut buttery notes), Juan of the Dead (mocha latte with a touch of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cayenne pepper), and so on. Despite the almost exhausting list of options, Tony decides to order a simple Beanful Dead latte (no sugar, extra hot) and a full slice of the Victoria sponge he’d sampled earlier.

It only takes one heaping bite to know that the cake is simply amazing. It’s moist, dense, and light in all the right ways, and the even coffee is surprisingly good, phenomenal even, if a tad underpriced for New York, especially considering the café’s unique ambiance. Tony tells the young barista as much when he returns to the counter half an hour later to order an iced coffee and a few extra pastries for take-away. He receives a shy smile in return and a few soft words about the owner’s desire to be affordable in an unaffordable neighborhood due in part to their Zombean Wall. Tony looks over when she points to the wall in question and breathes a soft huh at the spattering of neon notecards. Squinting at them, he realizes the notecards are actually prepaid meal vouchers pinned up so that anyone less fortunate can stop in, pick one off the wall, and exchange it for a hot meal and beverage free of charge.

Well, there’s only one thing he can do now.

The barista seems surprised when he whips out his wallet to pull out and hand her a banded pack of bills. She sputters that she couldn’t just take his money but Tony waves his hand. $5,000 can go a long way in a place like this.

“Seriously, keep it. I want to see it put toward that wall over there.” He grins at the girl’s dumbfounded look.

“Th-thank you so much, Mr. Stark!”

He manages to shoot her a cheeky wink before she turns around to gush to her coworkers.

They all take the time to thank him individually after that, making Tony’s cheeks heat at the unexpectedly genuine gratitude, while the last of them hands off his order with a “Thank you again, sir.” Tony pushes his sunglasses down over his eyes and gets a better grip on his drink and pastries with a soft ‘thank you’ of his own before stepping out onto the street, melding into the crowd.

The brisk autumn sun seeps subtle warmth into his leather coat as he slurps his iced Planet Terror latte. He earns some dirty looks for that, much to his delight, and he’s about to stick his tongue out at them when a sudden clatter catches his attention. He turns his head, not knowing what compels him to pause – its New York, creepy clattering down a shadowy alleyway is an everyday occurrence – but he does. He narrows his eyes and peers into the dark channel, expecting birds, or perhaps cats, but his breath catches when he spots a body slumped against the brick wall. Instinct kicks into high gear as he pushes past shoulders to get to the crumpled form. Kneeling down, he shoos away the inquisitive strays before appraising the person before him.

They’re unconscious, that much is immediately obvious despite the heavy wool cloak shrouding the upper portion of their face; if he had to guess, he would say the figure is male based on the sharpness of their jaw, though he would need a closer look to confirm that.

Tony lifts his fingers to the man’s delicate lips and slumps to feel air puff against them. “Okay, so, you’re breathing. Well, shallowly, but that’s still a good sign. Huh, guy?”

The lack of any sort of response has Tony donning a slight frown. He shifts closer.

Other than the obvious unconsciousness, the man really doesn’t look much worse for wear. His skin has a healthy, well-fed sheen, and so does the single lock of curling black hair snaking out from under the cloak’s hood. Even the cloak itself looks pristine, showing so sign at all that it’s come into contact with New York City’s muck and mire. But even if nothing else looks to be the matter, he still can’t leave the man just lying here. He clearly needs help, so Tony reaches out to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Hey. Hey, buddy.”

A gurgle.

Tony’s heart leaps. He shakes a little more firmly, voice louder. “Hey, you alri—”

The words die in his throat as the man’s head lolls to the side. Tony’s eyes follow along the curve of the man’s sculpted jawline, settling another moment on pink lips, before his gaze continues up the bridge of the man’s nose to affix on a pair of wickedly green eyes. They stare at one another, brown eyes fixed open, green blinking lazily.

“Lo—Jesus!”

Tony stumbles back, iced latte splattering somewhere behind him as Loki surges up and wraps his arms tightly around his waist, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Breath coming quick, heart fluttering, he tries to struggle; he wriggles and writhes in Loki’s hold to no avail. The god’s hold is iron.

So, this is it. This is where Tony Stark – Iron Man – falls.

If he had the hands, he would strike himself for being foolish enough to fall for such an obvious trap. Why – why did he let his guard down? All he wanted was for today to go right, no Avengers, no Loki, nothing, and now he has to pay the ultimate price for his hubris. If only he had told Pepper goodbye, or told Jarvis, U, and DUM-E that their creator loved them, or even given Steve the finger one more t—why isn’t he dead yet?

Tony frowns down at the top of Loki’s head where it rests against his chest, perilously close to his arc reactor, but then Loki’s arms are squeezing him tighter, stealing his breath, yet Loki just – nuzzles?

His brain short-circuits.

The moment of inaction passes as quickly as it came; he redoubles his efforts, grunting, shoving, and kicking wildly. “Let – Let go!”

Loki growls and squeezes tighter before grumbling something into Tony’s chest, too soft for him to hear, so he pauses, still tense, to ask, “What did you say?”

“Mmmm, five more minutes,” Loki replies, voice low and sweet like honey, arms loosening ever so slightly to cuddle closer.

Tony blinks, incredulous, and even though his cheeks heat without his permission, he seizes his opportunity. With one hard shove, Loki falls to the side, and Tony would be lying to say he didn’t get a guilty sense of satisfaction at Loki’s pained groan.

With Loki taken care of, he scrambles to his feet, pressing his back against the opposite wall. His fingers curl against the cold, rough brick behind him, breath coming out in aspirated puffs as Loki struggles to push himself back up, but when he does manage to lift his head, Tony hisses, “What the _hell_ was that all about?”

Loki blinks owlishly before adopting a dopey smile that softens his sharp features.

Tony stares, stares some more, and finally turns to pace while scrubbing his fingers through his hair.

_Breathe, Tony. Just breathe. What can you do?_

Objectively, what he should do is call the Avengers. Steve might even commend him for considering the bigger picture rather than only thinking to cover his own ass, not that he really cares what Steve thinks. The only hitch in that plan would be, well, Steve. Even if he did do everything right, he knows Steve will find something to bitch about, and who knows where Loki would end up in SHIELD’s hands.

That last thought breaks his stride. What does he care what happens to Loki?

The god in question makes a soft, imploring noise then that contorts Tony’s heart.

Tony spares him a glance but quickly looks away when he catches the wet gleam in Loki’s eyes. He shakes his head and sets a quicker pace.

No, the Avengers are out. He won’t send Loki to the wolves for simply wanting physical contact with another person, regardless of how aggressively that contact was sought after; but what other options does he have? He could just leave Loki here and pretend none of this ever happened. Okay, and the potential outcomes? He leaves Loki huddled on the ground to hopefully snap out of whatever it is that’s making him act love-dovey and nothing happens; _or_, Loki eventually comes to the realization that he basically nuzzled Iron Man like a giant teddy bear, purred while doing so, and out of sheer morbid embarrassment he sets the city ablaze.

_Yeah, maybe not, Tones. Next one._

Suddenly – _take Loki back to the Tower_.

His brow creases.

That could work. The potential outcomes are markedly better, at least. The Avengers wouldn’t get involved, and Loki would be off the streets and away from civilians. The only issue would be the alarms and significant breach of security Loki’s mere presence in the Tower evokes, but he knows Jarvis can handle it. Looking at Loki now, he appears relatively declawed, and cuddling really isn’t such a steep sacrifice to make in the great scheme of things, is it?

Loki smiles again when Tony stops to address him.

“Alright, Reindeer Games, I don’t know what sort of tricks you’re trying to pull but I can’t just leave you here to harass people on the street.” He pauses to give Loki a pointed look, but Loki only sways. Heaving a sigh, he murmurs, “Fuck, I’m going to regret this.” He pounds his fist against his forehead, shakes out his limbs, and stomps over to grip Loki under his arms, hefting him up with a grunt. He wraps his arm around Loki’s waist to keep him up and rolls his eyes when Loki eagerly throws his arms around his neck, rubbing his flushed cheek against his shoulder.

Tony shakes him. “Hey, you clinging like this is gunna make it hard for me to walk us back to the tow—”

The world tilts, like the floor just dropped out from under him, and the alley disappears as his personal floor pops into existence.

“—er. Holy shit. Did you just – how did you do that?”

Loki mumbles something that sounds like _mmywalkin_ as Jarvis exclaims, “Sir—”

“No alarms, J. No one needs to know.”

Jarvis’s resounding silence is enough to tell him that his AI doesn’t approve

Jarvis is silent a moment. “Very well, sir, just know that I will not hesitate to employ the fullest extent of my programming if your guest steps so much as an inch out of line.”

Tony grins at that and resituates his grip on Loki’s hip to walk him to the living room.

The going is slow, but even with Loki stumbling beside him he manages to maneuver him so the back of his knees hits the edge of the couch, effectively collapsing him without effort. It is when he attempts to pull away, however, that he is grabbed again. He struggles when Loki pulls him against his chest and shoves him under his chin to be nuzzled, all the while Loki tangles their legs so that no amount of shoving, writhing, or cursing on Tony’s part can dissuade Loki in his efforts. Realizing this, Tony hunkers down with a glower, eyes downcast.

As soon as he settles, Loki’s hold turns gentle. Long, slender fingers trace over his spine, pausing to play with the hair at the nape of his neck before continuing back down, and, despite his mind’s warning flares, he finds himself melting into Loki’s touch. Loki notices this and coos. Tony lifts his eyes, mouth opening to rebuff him, but all that comes out is a stricken breath when he sees fondness in the curve of Loki’s lips.

He is unable to look away as one hand slides under him, settling on the small of his back while the other tenderly grips his jaw so that Loki’s breath runs hot over his lips, green eyes never once leaving Tony’s as he leans closer.

“Mm, Anthony…”

The first brush of lips against his own startles him. He gasps, lips parting in invitation and the god is more than happy to oblige. Loki pulls him closer, holding tighter, tongue pressing deeper to draw a choked noise from Tony’s throat. The tenderness of it fogs his mind, enough so much so that he doesn’t notice Loki’s grip slacken until he’s arching forward to meet him.

His brow furrows as he pulls back to find Loki’s face lax, his lips parting as a pleased sigh escapes him in his sleep.

Tony slumps and lays his head back down, wondering at the spell Loki is under – one that compels him to seek out intense bouts of cuddles and swift descents to sleep. It’s no surprise that he found him in an alley if that truly is the case.

Fingers tease the base of his spine and Tony’s eyes jerk up to find Loki still asleep. He allows himself a fond smile when he knows Loki can’t see, and, thinking he might not get this chance again, he studies Loki’s face. The pallor of his skin and the dark depths of his hair beautifully contrast the red plushness of his lips, and the usual sharpness of his features, no longer twisted in a snarl or a teasing smirk at Tony’s expense, are smoothed out in sleep, making him look _soft_. Touchable.

Tony swipes his tongue over his lips, still tingling from their encounter.

Kissable.

He doesn’t know exactly when his eyes drifted shut after that last thought, but by the time he drifts back to consciousness, his first thoughts are of raven hair and honey lips. Odd, but he isn’t one to complain when he feels this well-rested. And on a couch no less. “Mmm,” he moans, stretching his arms above his head to a symphony of popping bones. He curls up again, smushing his cheek against the back cushion. The back cushion…his brow creases. Reaching out a hand, he finds the couch cold and empty, but he doesn’t remember it being that way before he fell asleep. Hot disappointment blooms in his gut when the last hour comes flooding back – Loki, cuddling, a brush of lips – but before he can begin his downward spiral a harsh bang from the kitchen makes him jolt. He jerks up and whirls to find Loki standing in front of his coffee machine and tossing his hands in the air as a string of obscenities spill from his lips.

Tony sags and scrubs his fingers over his eyes before blinking at the kitchen again, but Loki is still there, and still pressing at the ‘brew’ button even though Tony can see from his place in the living room that there aren’t even any grounds in the machine yet.

“What the hell are you doing?” he calls out, making Loki jump.

“Trying to get this _infernal machine_,” he hits it to punctuate his frustration, “to work! And the ghost in your walls is of no help.”

Tony barely suppresses a bark of laughter. “The ghost.”

“I believe he means me, sir,” Jarvis interjects.

“And did you tell him that there’s not even coffee in the machine?”

“I attempted to, but he rebuffed my guidance—”

“Hah!”

Tony is oddly taken with Loki’s outburst. Clearly the god has no idea what he’s doing and is having some trouble admitting it, but there’s an endearing quality to it, too. The unexpected thought calls a blush to his cheeks, which he hides by pushing himself up with both hands on his knees and wincing when his body protests. Maybe the couch wasn’t so good for him after all.

He plods into the kitchen, and when he eventually steps into Loki’s space, he asks, “Are you having a cup?”

Loki’s mouth falls open, seemingly taken aback by his mundane question, before a simple, yet unsure “No, thank you,” escapes him.

Tony shrugs. More for him, then.

Loki watches over his shoulder as he measures out the appropriate amount of grounds. He places the filter and the grounds into the top of the machine before closing the lid with a flick and pressing ‘brew’. The machine whirs to life and he hears Loki huff. Grinning, he leaves Loki standing at the machine to lean against the opposite counter. “Why were you trying to make coffee, Loki?”

Loki hesitates before setting his shoulders and turning toward him. Tony eyes him, waiting.

“I wanted to apologize,” he exhales.

Tony tilts his head, brow creasing. “What for, exactly?”

“I—” Loki swallows, and Tony watches the tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I spilt your drink.”

“My…drink.”

“Yes. In the alley.”

“I remember.”

Loki’s cheeks flush and he averts his eyes. Tony bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at the unexpectedly endearing sight.

“Is that all you’re apologizing for?”

Loki winces. “No.”

Tony leans back against the counter and waves his hand for Loki to continue.

“I forced myself upon you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t exactly in your right mind.”

“That’s no excuse,” Loki growls, more at himself than at Tony. “Spells backfire, and I have a safehouse for that reason. I should have gone there, but you—" He cuts himself off with an exasperated huff, one hand lifting to push his hair back. “I stopped in an alley to rest, and then I spotted you. I’m sure you heard what happened next. My fall wasn’t graceful, to say the least, but even when you discovered who I was…you stayed.”

Loki glances at him then, expression more open and vulnerable than Tony’s ever seen from the god. When Loki speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why did you stay?”

Tony swallows, throat dry. “Well, I—I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“Why not?”

“What if the Avengers had found you?”

Loki’s lip quirks in a way Tony knows all too well. _So what?_ it says. _What do you care?_

And, really, what does he care? Loki is supposed to be the enemy, and here he is standing in the kitchen with him, shooting the bull as they wait for a mug of apology coffee to finish brewing.

“I just, I couldn’t leave you. You gave me this _look_ and I—” He shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s it.”

“That’s it.”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other, neither one speaking, until both startle when the coffee machine chimes. Tony touches his fingers to his lips when Loki turns his back to him and dropping away when Loki faces him again.

“Will you accept this, then?” Loki says, holding out the mug with a fluttering hand.

Steam curls in the air between them, and Tony steels his nerves. He reaches out to wrap his fingers around the mug, covering Loki’s with his own as he offers him a tentative smile. “I will.”

Loki’s widening eyes and soft intake of breath embolden him, so he steps closer, coffee falling to the wayside when their chests brush. He tips his head, looking up at Loki through his lashes to admire the flush of his cheeks. “Will you accept this?”

Much to Tony’s delight, Loki’s voice sounds choked. “I will.”

He grins, walking his fingers up Loki’s arm. “And this?”

Loki swallows and nods.

Tony presses himself up on his toes, lips hovering tantalizingly close to what he’s sure they both want. He lifts his gaze from Loki’s lips to his wide green eyes and purrs. “_This_?”

He expects Loki to fall for the tease, to allow him to close those last few precious inches until their lips meet for the second time, but what he doesn’t expect is for Loki’s fingers to tangle in his hair, crushing their lips together with a noise of desperation. 

They fall into each other. Hands cling, moans mix, tongues clash, until they break apart for breath, chests heaving in time with the other.

Tony grins first, Loki following shortly thereafter.

"So, coffee date tomorrow?"

"Mm, I'll clear my schedule."

**Author's Note:**

> The end!! Hope you all enjoyed reading! 
> 
> This fic is a FROSTIRON BINGO fill for "Lured into a trap"; I just decided it should be a cuddle trap ;)
> 
> Now I need to get back to writing more tiny dragon tony! All my love~


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